Key to Justice

by Talia Gryphon

  He gently kissed her hair, smoothing it back from her face and covering her up as he rose to leave. All of that was food for thought on another day. Right now, letting Gillian be herself would get him further in her esteem than any magical seduction he could devise. He was learning. Smart Vampire.

  The next afternoon Gillian awoke to the lyrical music of Kimber’s voice. “Rise and shine, Captain Key. Oh, and thank you very fucking much. Mind explaining to me just what the hell happened to us last night?”

  It was a reasonable question, except Kimber rarely ever addressed Gillian by her rank unless she was inordinately pissed. Plus, it was spoken at an extremely high volume and with a grimace.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Whitecloud?”

  Kimber recognized the warning in Gillian’s voice and countered, “I brought your goddamn coffee, so drink it and then tell me what the hell you, the Romanian stud and your pet masked pianist did to us last night.”

  She set the cup down on the nightstand by the bed and backed up a pace. Flopping into a chair, she paused in her quest for information to disembowel Gillian with her eyes, then slurped her own cup of Italian roast with sugar and cream.

  Blindly, Gillian groped for the cup and found it, shoving her tangled hair out of her eyes and attempting to focus as the powerful beverage hit her stomach and then dispersed its bounty of stimulant into her bloodstream. She fumbled for her cigarettes and lit one, glaring at Kimber through the bluish smoke.

  “We healed a lot of people. You were there,” she grumbled.

  “So were you.” Kimber was staring at her accusingly.

  “What’s your point?” Gillian was trying to think. It was getting easier since her synapses were getting their caffeine fix and excitedly insisting that she focus on the immediate conversation. “Kimber, seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you go with Aleksei last night?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I went with Pavel.”

  “And?” Gillian was getting supremely tired of this.

  “And we discovered that I have been ‘healed’ in the worst possible sense of the word—that’s what, dipshit!” Kimber’s lovely gold green eyes were positively blazing.

  “Shit. You too?”

  “What! You mean you are . . . ?”

  “Yup. Intact and untried.”

  Kimber kicked the bed and winced when she remembered she wasn’t wearing shoes. “Goddammit, I am too old for this shit!”

  “That’s what I said too. Aleksei wouldn’t touch me.”

  “Neither would Pavel. He said it was about honor or something fucked-up like that.”

  “Great, so now we’re a couple of thirty-year-old virgins in a Country full of sex-on-a-stick males. However, I am supposed to have a ‘date’ with Aleksei where he wants to do this big romantic seduction thing so I feel special.” Gillian sat up and ran her hand over her eyes.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet!” Kimber squealed, then threw her coffee spoon at Gillian, clipping her on the head. “You dumbass!”

  “Ow! Why am I a dumbass? I didn’t know that was going to happen!”

  Kimber slumped back into the overstuffed chair, narrowly avoiding spilling her coffee. “I know. Shit, I’m just pissed.”

  “No, you’re frustrated, sexually frustrated.” Gillian’s grin was a little too wicked for someone who was yanking the chain of another very lethal Marine. Neither of them had had enough coffee for this conversation.

  “I really hate you sometimes.” Kimber flipped her off, then sipped her coffee.

  “Hey, I’m in the same boat. What did Pavel say?”

  “He said the same thing as Aleksei, evidently,” Kimber muttered resignedly. “He wants to have a ‘special’ evening, take me to Brasov or somewhere to a bridal suite in some really nice hotel. Just kill me now.”

  Gillian nodded. “All the males out there and we get Paramortal Lancelot and Galahad; complete with honor, principles and ethics.”

  “At least Lancelot was getting laid.”

  “Let’s not go there,” Gillian said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Now what?”

  “I guess we go through with our ‘dates,’ then everything will be back to normal.”

  “Normal is a state of mind. We’ve never been in that state,” Kimber observed. Gill didn’t bother to argue.

  After they finished their coffee and their gripe session, Gillian got organized to go have a brief session with Csangal. She’d promised to drive up to Brasov with Perrin to see him off and return with Helmut and Cassiopeia.

  Kimber had decided to go with her so Gillian wouldn’t be alone with Perrin. Gillian thought it best to keep a well-defined distance between them here at the end of their professional relationship. Perrin needed to make a clean break from her and his therapy so he could get on with his life. Having Kimber along would make it less difficult for him.

  She wasn’t afraid of being alone with him; she just didn’t want to get into one of Perrin’s overly sensitive moments. It was going to be hard enough on both of them when he stepped aboard that plane. His emotions still had a tendency to short-circuit all over the map when he was stressed, especially where Gillian was concerned. He was also the only client who had ever truly gotten under her skin.

  Dr. Cassiopeia Delphi, Gillian’s mentor, had made it clear that it was all right to care about him the way she did as long as she kept her professional perspective when it was time to say good-bye. Now it was time. Gillian had her emotions hog-tied and stuffed back behind a solid glass wall. It would be hard but she could handle it. Perrin would too; she had faith in him.

  Driving down to the Inn to meet Csangal, she thought about Aleksei. Cronus on a cracker, could he ever do anything spontaneously? No. She shook her head. That isn’t fair. Aleksei could be as spontaneous as the next Vampire. He was just more romantically inclined; that was all. As well as being gorgeous, sensitive, charming, really tall, breathtaking, stubborn, opinionated, stunning . . . Oops, her mind was drifting and she nearly missed her turn.

  She kept her head down as she got out of the car and went toward the door. Her thoughts were still so chaotic, she nearly climbed up the outer wall of the Inn when a dark, honeyed voice greeted her from the shadows outside the building.

  “Good evening, Gillian.”

  “Holy shi—Er, hi, Csangal. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

  Good gawd almighty, speaking of sex on a stick. The Vampire was so incredibly beautiful that she felt the sting of tears briefly as their eyes met. Sidhe legend said that some of their kind could cause a Human to die of heart-break if they were deprived of the beauty of the Fairy. This wasn’t a Sidhe male; this was a Vampire—but damn, damn, damn, he was smoking hot, making her heart wrench in her chest from his sheer loveliness.

  “Shall we take a walk tonight?” Csangal wasn’t unaware of his effect on the Human female. She had an iron will but, like any other Human, tended to let her guard down around beautiful creatures. So much the better. He needed her cooperation and her expertise.

  There was something different about her tonight. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Her scent was familiar yet not. Something teased the back of his thoughts as she agreed to a walk. They turned from the Inn and went across the road and into the forest.

  Gillian noticed that they were on a well-defined trail. “This looks well used,” she commented.

  “It is. I believe that Radu said they kept nature trails and a garden over here for the guests’ enjoyment.”

  “I’ve been here for more than two years and I didn’t even know about this.” Gillian laughed.

  “Perhaps you have not had much opportunity for romantic walks in the moonlight, nor had many patients who enjoyed being out of doors more than being inside,” he said silkily in that fabulous voice.

  The path was wide enough for them to walk abreast of each other, so they talked as they strolled down the moon-dusted lane. Soon, the p
ath opened up into a lovely garden; beautiful even at nighttime. It was lit by tiny Fairy lights—not the cheap strands of tiny lightbulbs you could string around your house for the holidays but some variety of teensy, tiny, real Fairies or demi- Fey; real Fairy houses and real Fairy lights.

  They looked like will-o’-the-wisps but were stationary. No danger there. Gill knew that if the little suspended ghostly balls of light were seen lazily meandering around a swampy, boggy area, it was best not to follow them. Too often they were affiliated with a malicious Fairy or Sidhe bent on leading the unwary traveler to a nasty moment of personal clarity before they died, drowned in the bog.

  Csangal led the way to a comfortable- looking bench by a small fountain. They sat and Gillian listened to where he was going with his story. She stayed well away from him; his sexual draw was as strong as ever and her shields still were not what they should be in order to be near him for long.

  He was telling her about when he believed his symptoms first appeared. His beauty was so overwhelming, she had to shift her eyes away momentarily now and then to keep from becoming entranced with him. He wasn’t even trying to bespell her. Shit, this wasn’t a hazard that she’d ever heard of being mentioned in graduate school, nor one she’d ever encountered before. What the hell was he saying? Origin of his problems? Yeah, that was it.

  “I’m not sure I have this correct. You believe your symptoms all started soon after you were Turned? Or was it longer, a while after you were Reborn?” Gillian wasn’t quite clear on that point and he seemed to be talking around that issue.

  “After, much later,” Csangal said quietly, looking away from her, “I became concerned that I really could not remember anything about my maker, my creator. Most Vampires have at least a rudimentary relationship with the one who Turns them, true even back in the age when I was Reborn. It was considered good etiquette to watch over your protégé, as it were. It is the maker’s responsibility to make sure his creation rises for the first few nights.

  “A number of Vampires never see their first sunset. They take refuge in the Earth too deeply, or they lock themselves too securely within a tomb. A new Vampire is nearly as weak as a Human until he has fed for the first time. Many die after those first few sunsets, or go mad and become the Revenants, who we all must fear.”

  “So Vampires don’t just automatically know what to do to stay alive? They need a teacher?” Gillian asked, wanting to put her hand on his arm in comfort but cautious of direct physical contact with him. His sensuality was almost overwhelming when sitting this close, and she remembered what had happened the last time.

  “Yes, they need another Vampire at least. Preferably their Master or Lord to guide them. They are aware they will need blood to survive, but where to acquire it safely is a lesson to be learned. One of the problems the Master helps the fledgling overcome is where to feed, so the newly risen are not driven to kill their families, friends or loved ones by mistake of proximity.” As he said it, something very, very dark crossed his features and then vanished.

  Gillian gulped, her hand involuntarily going to her throat, hoping her innate perceptiveness was not clanging the warning she thought it was. She took a shot at it. “You killed your family?”

  Shit and double shit. He had murdered his family. She knew it without a doubt before he answered her as her empathy flared in response to his long-remembered guilt. Was this a crime that needed to be reported, considering how long ago it had happened? How unstable was he when it happened? Who the hell would she report it to if she did need to report? How unstable was he right now? Inquiring minds had better fucking find out.

  Csangal smiled an empty smile, full of wry regret. “I rose a full Master, Gillian, with no knowledge of the level of my power or the damage I could potentially do. I killed a woman whom I loved in my newly acquired Bloodlust because she was simply there when I rose. I was a fledgling with no one to guide me, but it still burns a hole in my soul that I took her life and possibly the life of our unborn child as well. She told me just days before her death that she might be pregnant.”

  He subsided, his hands clasped together, looking at the ground. Gill could feel his anguish and horror clearly. Even a mind-blind person would have picked up on his pain.

  “That was six hundred years ago and I am still filled with regret, still paranoid that someone might remember and take vengeance upon me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gillian said softly, grateful that he was making sense and broadcasting appropriate responses to his story. She could do nothing for the woman, now long dead. If no one had acted to avenge her death back when it happened, there was nothing to be done now. Csangal, she could help.

  “Why?” he asked, turning those wondrous eyes on her.

  “Because it has haunted you for this long. Because you are genuinely sorry and can’t repair the damage. I want to help you, but we have to get you to a place where you can forgive yourself too.”

  “Do you believe that is possible? For me to finally let go of the past and forgive myself for killing someone who trusted me?” There was no animosity in his voice or manner, but she could feel a subtle shift. His hackles were up; she’d better tread carefully.

  “I don’t know,” she answered him truthfully. “I hope you can. I’ve counseled Vampires in your position before, where out of accident or necessity they had to kill someone they loved. It’s difficult but eventually they get past it or they Face The Sun.”

  “Suicide? I do not think I could bring myself to do that.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that you could,” Gillian explained, her voice completely level.

  “At first I didn’t know what Face The Sun meant,” she continued. “It’s not something included in textbooks on how to counsel the Reborn. Paramortal Psych was a completely new field when I started. There were a lot of things we didn’t know or that were referenced by Human ethics only, since mostly Humans were writing the books and teaching the classes. There are a lot of things we are still learning,” she added wryly.

  “A couple of years into my practice, I had a patient who asked me to be a witness for them. I didn’t know that suicide was acceptable in Vampire culture until then. While it is tolerated in some Human societies, it isn’t considered an option in my profession or in my particular society. I had to expand my own thinking and realize that others might consider an action that I found morally wrong.”

  “And if I did contemplate this as a choice?” The glacial green eyes were wary, questioning.

  “I would try like hell to talk you out of it, just as I did for the other Vampire.”

  “But he went through with it, didn’t he?”

  “She. She went through with it.” Gillian shook her head, still clearly bothered by the incident.

  “Could you explain further, please?” His gaze never wavered from her face.

  “This woman had lost her husband a year before in an auto accident. She and their son were living with her parents and she was trying to get her life back together. Her most recent lover was a fairly new Vampire himself. Either he didn’t know about your Rules or he didn’t care, because he convinced her to become Reborn, then abandoned her within the first few nights before she’d gained control of her need for blood.”

  She shook her head, her own eyes growing sad at the remembered pain of that experience. “Since he wasn’t around to watch over her and guide her, she went to ground way too close to her family’s home. She wanted the security of her child and parents since he’d left her alone.

  “When she rose, her little son was alone outside, catching fireflies in the dark, while his grandparents prepared dinner. It never occurred to her that the need for blood might override her maternal instincts with disastrous results. She said she only meant to hold him, but lost control of herself.”

  Gillian paused, reflecting on the mother’s anguish that she remembered. “I don’t remember how she was sent to me, but she came. It had been several months since the child’s death, so I thought it w
as a good sign that she wanted to talk about it, process all the feelings. In reality all she wanted was to tell her story to someone, on video, so her family would understand what had happened.

  “She asked me to be one of her witnesses when she Faced The Sun. I refused at first. I don’t believe suicide is ever an acceptable answer for any Being. After talking with my mentors, I realized that I had to accept what was normal in Vampire culture, even if it conflicted with my own moral standards. I wanted to help and support her, so I agreed.”

  “Whose line was she from?” Csangal asked softly.

  “I honestly don’t remember. At that point in my career, I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask since the importance of individual Vampire Bloodlines wasn’t something I was aware of,” she said ruefully.

  “But now you are?”

  “Being here for over two years, learning about it from Aleksei and the other Vampires I’ve met, helped me understand a great deal.”

  “Go on with your story, then. I am sorry to interrupt.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she responded. “Anyway, she planned it for a winter morning, so the sun would rise late. It was cold, snowing. She picked her child’s grave for the location. It was just the two of us and the video camera. Her family wanted nothing to do with her or her plans, so they’d waived their right to attend. Then her former lover showed up. He begged her to reconsider but she blew him off.”

  “Blew him off?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Told him to leave, to forget it; her mind was made up.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Anyway, she lay down on the grave, in the snow, like she was wrapping her arms around her son. She said a few ritualistic words about this being her entitlement to right the wrong she’d done. She stated very clearly on record that this was her decision, even though I had counseled her against it. Then the sun rose.

  “Her lover panicked and left. He was a young Vampire, like I said. I know the older you are, the more daylight you can tolerate, but he ran. I guess he wasn’t ready to die or to watch her die. But I stayed. She was so very new it didn’t take long. She didn’t even scream or cry out, just lay there while the sun turned her into dust.”